


The Rains Came

by countmeaway



Series: C'mon and Lift the Fog [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Family, First Time Parents, Injury, Light Angst, M/M, Post Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countmeaway/pseuds/countmeaway
Summary: Sometimes it hits Dean like a flying kick to the chest how much he loves Seth, how he doesn’t even want to imagine a life without him now that he has it, and he feels so goddamn lucky that they were able to turn a mistake—not their daughter, no, god, she will never be a mistake—into the best thing to ever happen to them.





	The Rains Came

Dean’s heart stops, kickstarts and jumps into his throat. “Oh, god,” he says, eyes glued to the television screen.

Seth’s back at work again, had no choice but to fly to the next city after having the weekend off from doing any house shows, the same as it’s been in the month since Hadley was born, and while Dean wishes Seth didn’t have to be at work at all, he understands that Seth being champion means he has duties to fulfill.

But all Dean wants now is Seth to be home with him, with their daughter, not rolling around the ring, grabbing his knee while his face is screwed up in a grimace.

This isn’t how any of tonight was supposed to go. Seth was supposed to get out there, fight whatever idiot decided to challenge him for his title, FaceTime when he was checked into his hotel for the night, repeat the next night before he’d be back home in the early hours of Wednesday morning.

Only the idiot out there challenging Seth for his title is Roman, and Dean doesn’t know what happened, if Seth misjudged the distribution of Roman’s weight, if one of them moved too quickly, bad timing, he doesn’t know, but between one moment and the next, Seth was going down, hands immediately clutching at his knee, Roman sprawled across the mat.

”C’mon, Seth, c’mon,” Dean says, repeats it over and over until the bell rings, until Roman’s hand is being raised, title held victoriously in the other. “No.”

It’s not that Dean doesn’t think Roman deserves the title, because he does. He’s worked his ass off to get to where he is, and he deserves a title run, but at the expense of Seth, of Seth being injured?

Fuck.

He waits until he sees the medical personnel swarming Seth, Roman already retreated to the back, before he digs out his phone, chewing on his thumbnail while he dials Roman’s number, over and over until Roman finally fucking answers.

”What the fuck happened?” Dean asks, pacing the length of the living room. He’s trying to keep his voice down, mindful of Hadley asleep in her bassinet, but he can’t, adrenaline running rampant through his veins, voice gone high and tight with worry.

“Hey, man, calm down,” Roman says, trying for soothing, but Dean doesn’t want to be soothed, doesn’t want to be calmed, wants to know what the fuck happened.

”What. Happened,” Dean grits out, frustration mounting.

”Dean, I don’t know,” Roman says, placid, calm, and Dean wants to know how he can be so fucking calm right now while Seth is—Dean doesn’t even know how Seth is yet, hadn’t bothered to try calling since he’s probably still being swarmed by trainers and doctors. “He’s done that move a thousand times, he’s done it to me a dozen times. I don’t know what happened.”

Dean drops down onto the sofa, scrubs a hand through his hair. “Fuck, man. How bad do you think it is?”

There’s a long sigh before Roman says, “Dunno, man. ACL maybe.”

Dean swallows hard. This is not something they need right now, not with a newborn baby in the house, not with Dean’s incision still not fully healed.

”I’ll run back to the trainers, see if I can find anything out for you, alright?”

”Yeah, yeah, thanks, Ro,” Dean says, then, “shit, dude, didn’t even congratulate you.”

Roman laughs softly. “Yeah, wish it was under better circumstances, but a title win is a title win. I’m gonna go see what I can find out. I’ll call you back soon. Give the little one a kiss for me, yeah?”

”Yeah, I will. Thanks, Roman.” Dean hangs up, waits until the call ended screen has gone away before he’s dialing Seth, holding his breath and letting it out in a rush when it goes to voicemail, again and again. He tosses his phone aside with a frustrated growl, tugging at his hair.

Hadley starts sniffling then, tiny little cries that increase until her lungs are working full force. Dean’s up and off the sofa faster than he should be moving, grimacing at the pull in his lower stomach.

”Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, lifting her from her bassinet and cradling her to his chest. “What’s got you cryin’ like that?”

Hadley only continues to cry, watery sobs that break Dean’s heart. He carries her over to the extra changing table they ended up purchasing for the living room as soon as Dean and the baby were discharged—because Seth didn’t want Dean carrying Hadley up and down the stairs every time she needed to be changed, and it made for easier storage for her diapers, wipes, and extra clothes—laying her down carefully before he gets her into a fresh diaper, hoping that will quiet her down.

But because she’s Seth’s daughter, her cries only seem to increase, chubby little face flushed red.

”Baby girl, c’mon, you gotta stop crying,” Dean says, lifts her back to his chest again. “Are you hungry? Does the little princess want something to eat?” He moves into the kitchen, to the premade bottles they keep in the refrigerator, setting it into the bottle warmer before he sets the nipple to her lips, blowing out a sigh of relief when she latches on eagerly, cries finally quieted.

”Yeah, just like your dada, aren’t you? Crabby little thing ‘til you get some food in your belly.”

Hadley is almost a month old, and she’s already so much like Seth sometimes it makes Dean laugh.

Thinking of Seth makes Dean stomach turn now, though, and he makes his way back to the living room, trying not to jostle Hadley and the bottle in her mouth.

His phone is vibrating against the sofa cushion, and Dean curses under his breath, answering the call just in time, immediately switching it to the speaker.

 _Seth_.

”Tell me you’re okay,” Dean says, before Seth has a chance to say anything at all.

”Not really,” Seth says, and he sounds tired, defeated in more ways than one, and it makes Dean’s heart ache.

”What happened?” Dean twists the bottle from Hadley’s mouth, one hand to her chest as he sits her on his knee, the other lightly patting her back until she burps, the tiniest little sound that always makes Dean chuckle.

”I don’t actually know,” Seth replies, sound of his frustrated breathing filling the line. “My footing was off or something, and my knee just.”

”How bad?” Dean asks, swallowing roughly. He focuses on the last bit of formula Hadley is swallowing down, lets the scent of baby ease his nerves.

”Just a sprained knee,” Seth says. “Lucky I didn’t blow the whole thing out. Still means I’m fucking sidelined for at least eight weeks.”

Dean feels something like suspicion settle in his chest, thick and bitter on his tongue, and he hates it, hates that it’s even a thought in his mind, but it hasn’t even been a month since Hadley was born, and things aren’t easy for Dean, not with the incision on his lower abdomen still healing, Seth still having to be out on the road for at least two days a week when Dean knows he’d give anything to be home with them? It makes Dean uneasy.

”You comin’ home tonight, then?” Dean asks, pushing that line of thinking away for now. That’s a conversation best had in person, not over the phone.

”Yeah,” says Seth. “Gonna have someone drop me at the airport. Dunno what time I’ll be home, but I’ll try not to wake you or the baby.”

Dean makes a face at that, but Seth’s adamant about him getting as much sleep as he can, when he can. “She’ll probably be awake for another feeding around 3, maybe 4, so don’t get pissy if I’m still up when you get in.”

”Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Seth says, but his voice doesn’t sound strained anymore. “Love you both. I’ll be home soon.”

”We love you, too,” Dean says, then Seth’s gone, phone blinking the call information before the screen goes dark.

Dean turns his attention back to Hadley, the sleepy look in her eyes, the nearly empty bottle she’s half-heartedly sucking at, and he pulls it from her lips, setting it off to the side before he burps her again, wiping away the trails of spit leaking from the corners of her mouth.

”C’mon, sleepy girl, let’s get you to bed.” Dean holds her tightly as he climbs up the stairs, each step more careful than the last, until he reaches the top landing and makes his way to her nursery, laying her down in her crib and drawing a blanket up over her.

Fuck, but this little girl is Dean’s whole world, her and Seth, and Dean never imagined it, never thought he’d love anything as much as—if not more than—wrestling, but Seth and their daughter have changed that, have rearranged his entire world, but he wouldn’t have it any other way, couldn’t dream of his life being different than it is now.

Dean turns on the baby monitor, watches the rise and fall of Hadley’s chest before dragging himself to his room, into the bathroom where he thoroughly cleanses the healing incision, trying not to grimace at the discomfort. It’s still a few weeks from being completely healed, and Dean is just over it. He’s ready to move and walk without that pulling, tugging sensation in his lower stomach. He’s taken a lot of bumps, been caught in barbed wire, but that was nothing compared to this.

He brushes his teeth before staggering back into the bedroom, arm wrapped around his lower abdomen as he sits down, propping the pillows up around him before he lays back, blowing out a slow breath as he stretches out. He knows he’s doing too much too soon, was told to take it easy and ask for help, but Dean’s never been one to ask for help, has never liked relying on others for things he can do himself, and he knows it’s different this time, knows that there’s so much more at risk if he injures himself, but this is his daughter, Seth’s daughter, and he doesn’t want anyone else intruding on their lives, no matter how helpful their intentions are.

He gets himself as comfortable as he can, wishing the next few weeks would fly by.

\--

Seth’s laying in bed beside him when Dean fights through the fog of sleep to wake up, and a glance at the clock shows him it’s been six hours, which means he slept through Hadley’s middle of the night feeding.

”Don’t worry,” Seth says softly, looking up from his phone. “Got in early enough to feed her. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Dean nods, stifling a yawn. He tries to push himself up, but his stomach gives a sharp throb, and he hisses out a breath, collapsing back against the pillows.

”Hey, easy,” Seth says, and he’s off the bed before Dean can say anything, returning with a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water.

Dean narrows his eyes, but he takes the pills and water, gulping them down quickly before he says, “Thought your knee was sprained?”

Seth looks sheepish.

”What’s goin’ on, Seth?” Dean ignores the ache in his belly now as he pushes himself upright, irritated and frustrated that Seth’s left him out of whatever’s going on.

”My knee is fine,” Seth says quietly, then reaches for Dean’s hands, fiddling with the bumps of Dean’s knuckles before he continues, “I wanted the time off, but being the champ obviously means I don’t get that, so I talked to Vince, came up with an injury angle that’d put me out for a couple months, long enough for your incision to finish healing and so I don’t miss the first few months of her life. I already feel like I’ve missed too much.”

”So, you did all that and didn’t bother asking me about how I felt about any of it?” Dean asks, keeping his voice as nonthreatening as he can. He’s pissed that Seth left him out of this decision. They’re supposed to be a team, a partnership, but when Seth does things like this? It makes it feel like they’re not.

Seth looks down and away, shrugs his shoulders as he drops Dean’s hands. “I knew you wouldn’t like it,” he says, “so I did what was best for all of us.”

”Dropping your title, the title you busted your ass to get and keep, is what’s best?” Dean asks, and he can’t keep his voice quiet now, anger surging through him.

Seth rises to his feet, hands on his hips. “That title means fucking nothing compared to you and Hadley. I would rather be here any goddamn day of my life than out there on the road, missing my daughter and my boyfriend, my family.”

Dean deflates in an instant, because he gets it, he does. He thought he’d miss wrestling more, thought he’d be longing for the road and the ache of a well fought match, but that part of his life feels like it was years ago, like it’s just a distant memory now, because he knows this is where he should be, this is where he belongs, home with his daughter, with Seth, building their lives together into something so fucking great it’ll make everyone envious.

”Come here,” he says, holds his arms out for Seth, and Seth steps into his arms, Dean wrapping them tight around Seth’s waist. “Just wish you would’ve told me. Hate being left out.”

Seth’s fingers move through his hair, and Dean relaxes into it, letting all the frustration and anger melt away. “I know. M’sorry.”

Dean hums softly, pushing his hands beneath the fabric of Seth’s t-shirt, feeling smooth warm skin. “That big brain of yours already planning your return?”

Seth shivers beneath his hands, voice soft and hushed when he says, “Nah. Just focusing on being here with you and our daughter right now.”

Sometimes it hits Dean like a flying kick to the chest how much he loves Seth, how he doesn’t even want to imagine a life without him now that he has it, and he feels so goddamn lucky that they were able to turn a mistake—not their daughter, no, god, she will never be a mistake—into the best thing to ever happen to them.

”C’mon, you should get some sleep,” Dean says, pushes Seth back so he can look up at him. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

Seth drops down into a crouch, hands framing either side of Dean’s face. “Thank you,” he says, barely louder than a whisper, and he’s fitting their lips together before Dean has a chance to ask what Seth’s thanking him for, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter, not when Seth’s lips are saying everything his words aren’t: thank you for this life, for our daughter, for sticking beside me no matter what dumbass decisions I make, for loving me.

It makes Dean’s heart hammer in his chest.

Seth settles on the bed beside him after the kiss has ended, Dean breathless and a low simmer of arousal licking through his veins, helping Dean lay back against the pillows without aggravating his belly too much, and, shit, Seth is so good at it, the wound barely giving a twinge at all.

”Get some sleep,” Seth says, fingers scritching through Dean’s hair, the soothing sensations causing Dean’s eyes to slowly fall shut. “Love you, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes flutter open for the briefest of seconds before they slide shut again, but Dean manages to get out a “Love you, Seth,” before he’s falling asleep.

\--

The bed is empty when Dean wakes up again, Seth’s spot gone cold. He looks around for the baby monitor and finds that gone, too.

He carefully slides out of bed, dragging himself to the bathroom to relieve his bladder and brush his teeth, opting for a shower later in the day.

When he gets downstairs, Seth’s laying on the sofa, Hadley sprawled across his chest, Seth’s hand so big in comparison to the size of her body. It’s—the sight is fucking breathtaking, and Dean itches for his phone, a camera, anything to capture the moment, and he’s never been more grateful for the fact that he has to move slowly than he is now, able to tiptoe back up the stairs to grab his phone before he’s back on the bottom step, camera app open and ready.

Seth’s asleep, his hair a curled mess, free of its usual hair tie, and his glasses are sitting askew on his face. Hadley’s little hands are curled into fists, resting on Seth’s chest, and Dean has never felt so full of love as he does in this moment, sunlight filtering in through the partially open blinds, spilling out over the room and bathing everything in a warm glow.

Dean takes a photo, two, three, wants to print and frame them and stores that thought away for later, a birthday present for Seth that’ll undoubtedly make him cry.

He sets his phone on the banister, slowly making his way over to the sofa, pulling Seth’s glasses from his face and setting them on the coffee table. Seth’s already become a light sleeper, the small action making his eyes flicker open.

”What’s wrong?” Seth asks, voice sleep rough and slurred.

Dean shakes his head. “Nothing. Fell asleep with your glasses on. Was just taking ‘em off.”

Seth yawns, and Dean has to fight not to mimic it, feels his ears pop as holds back his own yawn. “Think you can grab her?” her asks, already lifting her from his chest. “Think she needs a changing, and probably a bath while we’re at it.”

Dean carefully lifts Hadley from Seth’s hold, settling her against his chest as he walks over to the changing table. “Wanna get her bath stuff ready?”

”Yeah,” Seth says, sound of his footsteps rapidly climbing the stairs.

Dean gets Hadley stripped out of her clothes, hands feeling too big and clumsy while she wakes up and squirms, tiny lips screwed into a pout. “Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he coos, brushing his thumb over the clench of her fist, heart full to bursting when she grabs hold of it.

Seth comes barreling back down the stairs, arms filled with a towel, a wash cloth, the baby bathtub, baby shampoo, and some clothes.

”Where do you want me to put it?” Seth asks, hovering at Dean’s side. He’s making faces at Hadley, sticking his tongue out and puffing out his cheeks, and he looks kind of like a demented chipmunk.

”Counter next to the sink is fine,” Dean says, stifling a laugh at the way Seth has his eyes crossed, his tongue stuck out.

Bathing Hadley is an exercise in patience, in tempering their anxiety. She’s a squirmy, angry thing, red-faced and screaming, and Seth holds her as best as he can while Dean soaps her up, shampooing her hair before rinsing her off, wrapping her in her hooded towel and clutching her to his chest, rocking and swaying with her while he tries to soothe her cries.

He’d hoped Hadley would eventually stop hating bathtime, but it still seems like a far off dream.

”C’mon, baby girl,” he says, starts to hum under his breath, some half remembered lullaby. “The bad part’s over, c’mon, princess, your daddies are sorry.”

Seth joins them then, hand over Dean’s where it’s resting on Hadley’s back. He presses a kiss to her head, joins Dean in his humming, and it takes a few minutes, but eventually Hadley’s cries taper down into something softer before ceasing altogether.

Her eyes are wide open when Dean lays her back on the changing table, and she’s calm as anything while he dries her off and gets her dressed, a pair of floral pants and a purple onesie, a pair of socks so tiny Dean still marvels at the sight of them.

Seth appears holding a warm bottle, and after Dean finishes carefully drying her hair, Seth lifts her and feeds her with ease, stopping halfway through to burp her before she drinks down the rest.

”I’m gonna take a shower,” Dean says, seeing that Seth has everything under control.

”I’ll lay her down for a nap and make breakfast,” Seth says, and he darts in to give Dean a chaste kiss before Dean retreats up the stairs.

Everything is so much easier with Seth home, with Dean’s incision still causing him pain more often than not, and Dean enjoys it, dreads Seth having to go back to work, back on the road, hundreds and thousands of miles away from where Dean and Hadley need him most.

But he’s home for the next couple months, and Dean is going to enjoy every minute of it, of being a family, his boyfriend and their daughter, no interruptions, nothing to take Seth away from them.

\--

Even though he’s out of work for two months, Seth is still adamant about watching Raw and Smackdown, to keep an eye on what’s going on, he says.

Dean has his head resting on Seth’s thigh, and Hadley is lying on his chest, sleepily snuffling against his t-shirt. Seth’s fingers are working magic across Dean’s head, carding through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and Dean’s eyes are about to drift shut when the sound of Triple H’s music hits his ears, Seth’s movements stilling.

”Wha’s he doin’ there?” Dean asks, looking up at Seth.

”I don’t know,” Seth replies. He sounds worried, voice tight with it. “Wanna get up?”

No, Dean really doesn’t want to get up, but he does, anyway, shifting around carefully without jostling Hadley too much, eyes flicking between Seth and the tv.

Triple H stops in the middle of the ring, pissed off look on his face. Whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to be good.

Seth’s leg is shaking, bouncing up and down, the couch vibrating with all his frenetic energy. He’s laser focused on the tv, jaw clenching and unclenching, holding tight to his knees. He must be thinking the same thing Dean is. And Seth would know. He’d been Triple H’s puppet for how long?

”Two years,” Triple H starts, and Dean grimaces. Yeah, he’s about to go off on a tirade about Seth, and this is not something Seth needs to hear.

”C’mon, don’t watch that,” Dean says, trying to reach for the remote. Seth grabs it before he can.

Seth shushes him.

”Two years, and we gave him everything,” Triple H continues, low and menacing, a promise of retribution in his tone. “How does he repay us? By sleeping with the enemy. By having a child with the enemy.”

Does Triple H have a death wish? Because Seth is going to kill him. Seth is going to fucking murder him and not even feel bad about it.

”Seth, change it,” Dean tries again. He needs this to be over, needs Seth to not be watching this. Nothing good will come of this, of that Dean is certain.

”Seth Rollins, the architect. The undisputed future. We gave that to him. We made it so that he could sit pretty atop this company, taking out everything that came in his path.”

Dean doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink, cradling Hadley a little tighter against his chest. Triple H isn’t even talking about him, and it still feels like a knife to the gut, his innards spilling out onto his feet.

”And what happened? He turned soft. He had a baby, became a daddy, and suddenly everything became too much for poor Seth Rollins. I mean, a month of being a father and being the champion, and his knee gives out? Pathetic, Seth, you’re pathetic. A real man could shoulder the weight of the world on his back and still keep going. But you? Couldn’t even hack it for a month.” Triple H is laughing, low, mocking, and Dean wants to throw something, wants to punch something, anything, a rage and hatred burning up inside him.

Triple H keeps going, keeps running his mouth, but Dean’s tuned him out, gaze fixed on Seth. Seth, who looks like he’s about to throw up or cry, having everything he accomplished spit on, told that the only reason he had it was because they made it that way, that without The Authority, Seth wouldn’t have had anything, wouldn’t have been anything.

The room is shrouded in silence once Seth turns off the tv, his shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his knees.

”Seth?” Dean tries, switching Hadley to one arm so he can reach out to Seth with the other.

Seth pulls away as though he was burned, says, “Don’t,” shaking his head before he pops up off the sofa. “I’ll be back.”

”Seth,” Dean says, a plea for Seth to sit back down and talk to him, but it falls on deaf ears, the front door slamming shut, loud enough to wake Hadley. “Goddammit.”

Dean switches his focus to the squalling baby in his arms, rocking her gently to calm her cries.

When it becomes clear that Seth isn’t going to be coming back immediately, Dean takes Hadley up to her nursery, changing her diaper before settling her down in her crib, the mobile above it playing softly.

He tucks the baby monitor into the pocket of his shorts, going back downstairs. He debates sitting back down on the sofa and waiting for Seth to return, but the silence is already oppressive, already has enough negative thoughts churning through his head, so he moves into the kitchen, preparing enough bottles to get Hadley through the night, making sure she has enough formula to last until the next time he goes out to get groceries.

It barely eats up any time, and Dean is left standing at the counter, hands clenching the lip, his head bowed between his shoulders.

What if—what if Seth believes everything Triple H said? What if he starts regretting everything that’s happened between them, starts regretting Hadley, and being with Dean? It makes his stomach churn, bile rising in his throat, and he barely makes it to the sink before he’s throwing up, tears burning his eyes, acid feeling like it’s shredding his throat.

He can’t—if Seth chooses to walk away, chooses to go back to Triple H, to The Authority, Dean doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He can’t do this without Seth, doesn’t want to do this without Seth.

But if Seth believes everything Triple H said, there’s no doubt in Dean’s mind that Seth will go back, just to prove him wrong, to prove that he is the man, that he deserved and earned everything he got, that it wasn’t just because they handed it to him, that he was the one out there, day in and day out, putting his body, his title, on the line, to whoever dared to step up. Sure, maybe more of Seth’s wins were unsavory than not, but it was still Seth out there. He didn’t ask for J&J Security, didn’t ask for Kane to constantly interfere. That was all The Authority, who very obviously never had much faith in Seth to begin with.

This is the same shit Triple H pulled to get Seth to join them in the first place, Dean is sure of that, breaking Seth down so badly that he had no choice but to join The Authority, to give in to everything they were peddling, promising.

The front door opens and closes, a lot quieter this time, and Dean takes a minute to rinse out the sink, his mouth, splashing water over his face.

”Dean?” Seth calls out.

Dean clears his throat, says, “In the kitchen,” just loud enough for his voice to carry to the living room where Seth is.

Seth comes trekking in, hands deep in his pockets. He looks small, hunched in on himself, like he’s ashamed of who he is, like he’s carrying all his sins and burdens on his shoulders.

”You okay?” Dean asks, taking a step closer.

”Not really,” Seth says with a shrug, tone unreadable. Dean wants to scream, wants to grab Seth by the shoulders and shake him, make him talk, open up and tell Dean what he’s thinking, feeling.

He takes another step closer. “You don’t—you don’t believe what he said, do you?” he asks carefully, afraid to know the answer.

Seth shrugs again. “It’s true, isn’t it? The Authority, they gave me everything. Gave it to me, Dean. I didn’t earn anything. They pulled all the strings to make it so that I’d be champion, so that I’d win all my matches.”

”That’s bullshit, Seth,” Dean says, gritting his teeth. “Yeah, maybe they orchestrated it so that you’d win the briefcase, but how did they make it so that you’d actually win when you cashed in? There was no Kane, there was no J&J. That was all you. That was all you pinning Roman, gettin’ rid of Brock, winning that title. That accomplishment is all yours, Seth, and no one can take that away from you, you hear me?”

There are tears in Seth’s eyes when he looks up at Dean, and Dean hates it, hates it so goddamn much, wants to fly to wherever Triple H is and punch his teeth down his throat.

Seth doesn’t say anything, bows his head to keep his face hidden.

”Your knee injury is fake, Seth,” Dean continues, voice growing stronger. “So you wanted to be with your daughter. He took time off, too, when his kids were born, only thing was his daddy-in-law owns the damn company! Don’t you dare fuckin’ regret that little girl upstairs because of that asshole, because I swear to god, I will kick your ass out that door so fast, your head’ll spin.”

Seth looks up at him then, mouth dropped open, before he finally gathers himself enough to say, “I would fucking die before I ever regretted either of you. You are my world, Dean, you and Hadley. I don’t give a shit what Triple H says. ‘I slept with the enemy. I had a baby with the enemy’? Who gives a fuck. It’s my life, my choice, and I will never regret it, not for one single second, you get me, Ambrose?”

Ambrose. That hurts Dean a little more than it should. Seth hasn’t called him by his last name in months, and Dean forgot how rough and bitter and hateful it sounds falling from Seth’s tongue.

”Cuttin’ a promo on me now, Rollins?” Dean fires back, digging his nails into the meat of his palms.

Seth deflates, a look of panic crossing his face. “Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, Dean, I’m sorry. Goddammit.” He shakes his head, looking disgusted with himself. “This is what he does. He gets in your head and twists everything around until you don’t know which way is up. I’m not—I’m sorry, Dean.”

”C’mere,” Dean says, holding his arms up and out for Seth, sighing in relief when Seth steps into them, wrapping his arms Dean’s midsection, his head on Dean’s shoulder. “Your place is here with us,” he tells Seth, smoothing his hands up and down Seth’s back. “You wanna fight back, you wanna get your revenge, I will be right here in your corner, rootin’ you on.”

Dean doesn’t know how long they stand there, but they’re roused out of their embrace by the sharp cry from the baby monitor.

”I’ll get her bottle warmed,” Seth says, his hands the softest of touches on either side of Dean’s neck. “Meet you upstairs.”

Dean nods, hands still at Seth’s hips. He pulls Seth in close again, bumping his nose against Seth’s, their lips falling together easily, effortlessly. “I love you,” he says once he’s pulled away. “I don’t regret anything we’ve done, anything that’s happened. This, what we have? It was all worth it, Seth, so don’t you dare ever check out on me.”

Seth nods rapidly. “I know, I know. I love you, too, Dean, you and Hadley. Triple H can say whatever he wants about me, but he’s wrong. He’s so fucking wrong. I’m not weaker or softer because we have a daughter now. I’m stronger and better, and he has no idea what he’s just unleashed.”

Dean grins, dark and promising, Seth’s smile a mirror of his own.

”I’ll be upstairs,” Dean says. “Hurry with that bottle. You know how she hates waiting.”

”Just like her daddy,” Seth teases.

\--

The weeks seem to fly by, and before Dean knows it, Seth’s packing up to go back to work.

”You really gotta go back?” Dean asks, leaning against the doorframe to their bedroom, Hadley cradled safely against his chest. She’s grown so much, gotten so big already. Three months old, and she’s the spitting image of Seth, with Dean’s blue eyes and dimples.

Seth sighs, shoulders rising and falling. “You know I do, Dean. I was lucky Vince even allowed me to take this much time off. It was only supposed to be eight weeks, and I’m so damn grateful he gave me an extra two.”

”I know,” Dean says sadly, already feeling like half of him is missing. How is he supposed to adjust to Seth being gone, after having him home for so long?

”Did you—do you wanna come with?” Seth asks. He has his hands on his duffelbag, shoving whatever he can fit inside there, but he pauses to look up at Dean.

”Do you want us to?” Dean asks, already trying to figure out how they’re going to do this, how they’re going to make it work.

Seth nods eagerly. He digs through his bag, and Dean stands there watching, a confused look on his face.

”What are you doing?”

”I had hoped you’d wanna come, with it being my big return and all, so I had something made for Hadley,” Seth says, presenting Dean with a baby-sized version of Seth’s new shirt, a grin on his face.

”You waited til the last minute to ask, even though you had it planned that we’d be comin’ with?” Dean asks, trying to sound pissed. All he sounds is fond, though, fond and enamored with the man standing in front of him, and he can’t even pretend otherwise.

”That sounds about right, yeah,” Seth says, whisking Hadley out of his hold. “I wanna see how this fits her.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Seth, you’re gonna take a picture of her in it and save it ‘til tomorrow, then plaster it all over your Instagram.”

Seth doesn’t even look embarrassed. “Sue me.”

There’s a lot of packing that Dean needs to do, so he lets Seth play dress-up with Hadley, going into the nursery and packing everything Hadley will need for a few days, plus more, before he even starts packing a few meager things for himself. If he needs anything, he’ll just steal it from Seth.

Seth is holding Hadley when Dean walks back into their bedroom, and it’s such a perfect shot, Dean says, “Hold it,” before pulling his phone out of his pocket, capturing Hadley’s back, part of Seth’s face, his arm beneath her bottom holding her up.

”That’s the one,” Dean says, sending it to Seth. “That’s the one you should use.”

And Dean sees that he does, a day later, soaking up the excitement and adrenaline of the backstage area, of a well done pay-per-view, Roman sweaty and grumpy, no longer holding the title but his niece instead, Dean’s arms wrapped around Seth.

Seth’s still breathing a little heavy, and his hair is disgustingly wet, dripping down the front of Dean’s shirt, but he wouldn’t change this moment for anything.

The photo is posted in black and white. Hadley and Seth are in the middle of the frame, but the photo is focused on the words on the back of Hadley’s onesie, Seth’s new catchphrase: Redesign, Rebuild, Reclaim. The caption says the same, but expands into more, into Seth’s explanation of what it means.

_Redesign: No longer who they made me to be. No longer a puppet for their game. From here on out, everything I do is for me, for my family. This is the new Seth Rollins._  
Rebuild: Starting from the ground up, rebuilding who I am, who they tore down to make who they wanted.  
Reclaim: This is the most important one to me. Reclaiming who I was, before Triple H got into my head, before he played his mindgames with me. This is me reclaiming my life, and everything I lost at his hands.  
#fatherhoodhasmademestronger #better #dontyoudaretalkaboutmyfamily #mylunaticwillstillmessyouup 

”Really, Seth?” Dean asks, when he catches sight of the last thing Seth typed.

”What?” Seth asks, looking at Dean over his shoulder. “It’s true!”

Dean grins, because it is. But he knows he won’t have to, because Seth will take care of it. Seth will take care of them, the way he always does, the way he always will.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking a lot of creative license with events and structuring them to fit within this 'verse, and I hope it's working out well enough.
> 
>  
> 
> I am now taking requests/prompts over at my [tumblr](http://socialsymphony.tumblr.com), so feel free to stop by and drop a prompt if you'd like


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